


Making Amends

by mithrel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blanket Permission, M/M, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-13
Updated: 2010-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-11 18:06:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick gets a second chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Even More Broken

Nick picks himself up off the floor of the abandoned restaurant, his bones screaming, amazed he’s alive at all. The last thing he remembers is Lucifer, looking like Sarah, promising him revenge. Then nothing but freezing fire and acid in his mind.

He hears a sigh behind him and whirls around, to see a man dressed all in white looking at him with a sorrowful expression. “Nick, Nick. I’m disappointed.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Who are you?” _Why aren’t I dead?_

The man ignores his questions. “Everyone had a choice here, even the Winchesters. You could have said no to Lucifer and made it that much harder for him. Instead you failed the test.”

“What test?” Nick demands. _I already lost my family. I had nothing else left to lose._

“ _‘Eli Eli lama sabachthani?’_ ” the man replies, and, when Nick only blinks at him, “‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ He didn’t abandon Jesus. Why should He abandon you?”

“What did I do to deserve my family being killed?” Nick retorted. “If he was punishing me for saying yes, that’s what caused it!” He wonders again who this guy is, and why he seems so certain that Nick gave up too easily.

“It wasn’t a punishment. It was a test. Like Job.”

“How do _you_ know?”

“You’re wondering why you aren’t dead. You were. But you said yes to Lucifer, and let him use your body to go on a rampage. That would get you an automatic trip to Hell. You don’t deserve that.”

Nick stares at the guy again, suddenly certain that he’s in deep trouble. “Who are you?”

The guy smiles at him. “Haven’t you guessed yet? But it’s not important. What is important is that you need to make up for what you did.”

“How?” Nick croaks. How can he make up for something when he's not even sure what he's done?

The guy smiles. “You’ll find a way.”

Nick’s about to ask another question, but there’s a flash of light and he’s suddenly somewhere else.

***

He looks around, to find he’s back in his own kitchen. He can’t take time to wonder about this though, since he’s slammed against the wall, a knife at his throat, almost before he realizes where he is.

He stares wildly at the guy snarling at him, thinking that another thief broke in while he was gone and now he’s going to be killed too. “Don’t kill me!”

The guy blinks, looking surprised. He hesitates. “I thought I got rid of you!”

And then Nick realizes what it is that’s familiar about him. He’s never seen the guy before, but he recognizes the taint that comes from drinking demon blood, and the darkness of Lucifer’s presence. And that means… “You’re Sam Winchester.”

Sam backs off, but still keeps the knife ready. “You’re not him.”

“No,” Nick coughs, rubbing his throat nervously. “I’m Nick.”

“Lucifer’s vessel,” Sam mutters, then, “Why aren’t you dead?”

He shrugs. “Something about failing a test and having to make up for it.”

“You said yes to Lucifer!” Sam snarls at him. “If it weren’t for you–”

“I’m sorry!” Nick cuts him off.

“Well, thank God for that! So long as you’re _sorry_ it doesn’t matter that you said yes to the devil and gave him the ability to murder God knows how many people!”

Nick flinches away, but it’s no less than he deserves.

“Where am I?” Sam asks him after a moment.

“Delaware.”

Sam runs a hand distractedly through his hair. “I can’t stay here. I have to find…”

“Find what?” Nick prompts him cautiously when he doesn’t finish.

Sam sighs and slumps suddenly. “No one. Nothing. Never mind.”

“How’d you get out of Hell?” Nick asks, wondering how he knew Sam was in Hell in the first place.

Sam flinches, then shrugs. “I dunno. One minute I was falling, the next I was…here.”

“If…if you haven’t got anywhere else to go…” Nick starts, hesitantly.

“What?”

“Youcouldstayhere!” Nick finishes in a rush, sure this is a bad idea, and, when Sam stares at him as though he’s sprouted horns, continues, “I mean, some guy tells me I’m supposed to make up for saying yes, and all of a sudden I’m here and you’re here…”

Sam narrows his eyes at him for a long while, then finally sighs. “Whatever.”

***

Nick makes up a bed for himself on the couch. “My room’s down the hall.” He doesn’t even consider having Sam sleep on the couch.

Sam purses his lips at him and heads down the hall.

That night, Nick dreams. Memories of finding Sarah and Abby dead mix with visions of a pit full of bodies and ripping a man’s heart out with his bare hands.

He wakes up shaking, to find light coming in the window. He lies there until he can’t stand it anymore, then gets up.

Sam wanders out not long after, circles under his eyes. Nick debates asking him if he had nightmares, but instead he just says, “Morning.”

Sam grunts acknowledgement, and Nick goes to see if there’s enough food to make breakfast.

***

Sam doesn’t talk much, and Nick doesn’t try to get him to. He has enough to deal with on his own. Sam gradually stops tensing when he looks at him, although the anger in his eyes doesn’t go away.

Nick’s still having nightmares, and after a week Sam’s looking haggard, so he finally brings it up. “You’re having nightmares.”

“Who says?” Sam snaps.

“You must be. I am.”

Sam visibly bites back an angry comment, perhaps something about how Nick deserves nightmares, then murmurs, “Yeah. I am.”

Nick swallows, about to make another inadvisable suggestion. “We could…if you…”

Sam wrinkles his brow at him. “What?”

“I sleep better if there’s someone next to me,” he mumbles, trying to phrase it in as neutral a way as possible. He doesn’t want Sam to think he’s coming onto him. He has a feeling he wouldn’t survive the experience.

Sam actually considers the suggestion for a long moment, then shrugs. “Whatever.”

***

That night Sam heads into the bathroom to change. They’d found a bag with some of his clothes in the living room, which is a good thing, since none of Nick’s clothes would fit him, even if Sam would consider wearing them.

Sam’s already in bed when Nick comes out of the bathroom. He’s on the right side of the bed, but Nick doesn’t make an issue of it, just moves around to the other side. Sam’s curled up facing the wall, making himself as small as possible, which isn’t very. Once Nick climbs in bed he shuts off the light without a word.

Nick has another nightmare, about Hell this time. Or at least he thinks it’s Hell. There’s no fire, just cold and bare walls. He’s cut off from everything, his family, the world he knew before, _everything._

He wakes up crying, and shoots a glance at Sam. He’s turned away from him, but something about the set of his back tells Nick he’s awake. He turns back over and cries until he falls asleep again. Sam is stubbornly silent.

***

The next night it’s Sam who has a nightmare. Nick hesitates before waking him up. Sam’s dangerous, and if he sees him after waking up from a nightmare he’s going to assume he’s Lucifer. But Sam is thrashing around and crying out, so Nick finally shakes his shoulder, cautiously.

Sam bolts awake and pins him to the bed with an arm over his throat, before blinking and drawing back. He doesn’t apologize, or thank Nick for waking him, but he nods at him, and Nick nods back.

***

A few days after that Nick wakes up to find Sam gone. There’s no note, but Nick figures he finally got disgusted with him and left. It’s not like he had any reason to stay.

That night the nightmares are worse than before.

***

There’s a knock on the door the next morning, though. Nick opens it to find Sam standing on the doorstep. “Where’d you go?” he blurts before he thinks.

“To check on a promise,” Sam answers, and Nick’s afraid to ask for more details.

That night, Nick tells the wall, “The nightmares were worse when you were gone.”

Sam doesn’t answer, but he shifts to press against Nick’s back. Nick stiffens, then gradually leans into Sam.

That night, he doesn’t dream at all.


	2. Repairs and Atonement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick tries to figure out what to do with himself now that Lucifer’s gone.

Sam’s been living with him for almost two months, and they’re both still having nightmares. They’re less frequent, but still there. Nick wonders if they’ll ever leave completely.

They’re sitting on the couch together one day, Sam leaning into him. He’s been doing that more often lately, keeping in physical contact even during the day. Nick doesn’t mind too much. 

“What do you dream about?” he asks Sam quietly. He’s never had the nerve to bring it up before, and he’s not sure how Sam will react.

Sam moves away from him slightly, like he’s considering the question. “Falling, mostly.” A small shudder runs through him. “Lucifer taking control again and ripping into my mind.”

Nick looks at him, trying to figure out the emotions on his face. He knows about what happened in Lawrence. At one point Sam had gotten drunk and told him all about the final confrontation, how he’d wrenched control from Lucifer and opened a hole into Hell. “You OK?”

Sam laughs bitterly. “No.” He pauses a second, then asks, “What about you? What do you dream about?”

Nick shrugs. “Everything. Nothing. Not all of it involves Lucifer.”

Sam nods. He never presses Nick for answers and Nick tries to return the favor by not asking him questions too often. “Why’d you say yes?”

Nick sighs. “It’s a long story.” He’s almost forgotten that first meeting with Lucifer, the arguments he’d made. Why he said yes doesn’t matter as much as the fact that he had.

Sam waits for him to continue, and he says, “I was married. Had a little girl.”

Sam nods. Nick keeps the door to Abby’s room closed, but the swing had still been out when he got back. “What happened?”

“Break-in,” Nick says thickly. “I came home and the door was open and they…” He pauses, swallows. “Anyway. After Sarah and Abby were gone I figured there was no point going on. And then Lucifer came and said that if God had let that happen then he must either be a sadist or else not care.”

“So you said yes.” It’s not a question, not a recrimination, just a statement. Nick nods.

“I know how it is,” Sam murmurs.

Nick stares at him.

“Not exactly,” Sam continues quickly. “But my…my girlfriend was killed. By a demon. I watched her burn.” He lets out a laugh that’s half sob. “I was gonna propose.”

Nick’s not sure what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything. But he can’t help thinking that Sam’s a better man than he is. He’d never given up. But then, he’d passed his test, otherwise he’d still be in Hell. Nick hadn’t, and he can’t help feeling like he’s on probation.

He doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to _do._ Sure, let Sam stay with him, presumably help him recover, but how will that be enough?

He’s still trying to figure it out that evening when he goes to bed.

***

That night he has the worst nightmare he’s ever had. He doesn’t remember details afterward, just a rush of blood and death and death and blood and hatred so sharp he can taste it.

He’s nearly hysterical when he wakes up, doesn’t remember where he is, doesn’t remember _who_ he is. All he knows is that there’s someone holding his arms, and he fights to get away.

“Nick. _Nick!_ ”

That’s his name, he realizes, and stops fighting long enough to see Sam staring at him in concern. “Sam?”

Sam pulls back once he sees he’s lucid, giving him space. “Hey, man, you OK?”

Nick doesn’t answer, just buries his face in Sam’s shoulder and cries. He knows it’s pathetic, but he can’t help it. Sam makes shushing noises and strokes his back.

When Nick finally pulls away he asks, “Do you think it’ll ever stop?”

Sam sighs. “I dunno, man. You’ve been through shit that would make most hunters pour their holy water down the drain and move to Maui.”

“Tell me about hunters.” Sam hasn’t told him much about his life before Lucifer wanted him as a vessel.

Sam looks like he doesn’t think that’s a good idea, but he finally runs a hand through his hair and nods. “Most people have no idea of the shit that’s out there, and they’re just as happy. Even if they run across something, they rationalize it away.”

“But…?”

Sam sighs. “But some people can’t. If something supernatural kills your daughter, or you have to kill your wife because she’s possessed and you don’t know what else to do, you want revenge.”

“So why did you…?” He has no right to ask that question; Sam hasn’t given him the right.

Sam’s quiet for awhile, then says, “It wasn’t me, really. It was my dad.”

Nick waits, wondering if Sam’s going to continue.

“You remember when I told you my girlfriend was killed by a demon?”

Nick nods.

Sam runs a hand through his hair again. “That was after I’d left, gone away to Stanford to get away from hunting. It wasn’t the first time it happened.” He swallows. “My mom got killed the same way, when I was only a baby. Dad got obsessed with finding the thing that killed her, and so he raised Dean and me to fight.” There’s a catch in Sam’s voice as he speaks of his brother.

“Did he ever find it?”

“Yeah. Or, well, he helped. Dean killed it. Ganked it with a demon-killing gun.”

“So why’d you keep hunting, after that?” Nick asks. “Why didn’t you stop?”

Sam grimaces. “Other things came up.”

Nick has a feeling he knows what the ‘other things’ were. “Could…could I be a hunter?”

Sam looks at him consideringly for a long moment, then shakes his head, “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Nick, man, don’t take this the wrong way, but hunting can really fuck you up. People don’t go into it because they want to. And I honestly don’t know if you could handle it.”

“Like I’m not fucked up already?” Nick shoots back. “And I’m not asking because I want to. I had a monster inside me for months. I _was_ a monster for months! I need to do something to make up for everything I did!”

Sam pauses, taken aback, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes that tells Nick he understands. “Yeah, OK, we’ll try it.”

***

The first thing Sam does is train him in hand-to-hand. It’s awkward, not only because Nick still isn’t comfortable in his own skin after so long locked away, half surprised that when he moves his limbs respond, but because he’s in so much contact with Sam.

He doesn’t know why this is different. They’ve been sleeping in the same bed for months.

But he's suddenly all too conscious of Sam’s body above him, Sam’s heart beating against his chest when he pins him to the ground, which happens almost every single time.

"Pay attention!" Sam growls at him, as Nick hits the floor for the fifth time that morning.

"I'm _trying!_ " Nick snaps back. "You've got more experience than me!"

"Yeah, but I'm going easy on you!"

And it's true. Sam always gives Nick a chance to come after him first, and doesn't set his feet properly. But no matter how often they practice the throws, Nick can't pin him.

He's afraid Sam is going to give up on him, and a week later, when Sam says, "OK, that's enough," Nick thinks he's finally gotten sick of trying to teach him something he’s no good at.

"You're giving up?"

Sam pushes his sweaty hair out of his eyes, and Nick looks away. "No. But we might as well move on to something else for awhile."

So Sam trains him in "Monster-Fighting 101." Nick learns how to get rid of demons and ghosts, which are by far the most common, as well as other things Sam's run across in his years as a hunter. He stumbles over the exorcisms at first, but memorizes them fairly quickly, learns what you go after with rock salt, or iron, or holy water. He learns how to use an EMF meter and set up a devil's trap. He can't be sure, but he thinks Sam's impressed.

When Sam goes out one day and comes back with the trunk of Nick's car stuffed with weapons, though, he starts to worry for the first time. "Where'd you get all that?"

Sam shrugs, dropping a seven-inch knife in a bag before pulling out a shotgun. "I have contacts."

"Do you have a permit for that?"

Sam smiles wryly. "Hunters don't really get along with the authorities."

Since the police had never found the man who murdered his family, Nick isn't exactly friends with the authorities either. He doesn't bring it up again.

***

He's better with the weapons than he was at hand-to-hand. Sam teaches him knife-fighting, and it turns out Nick's a pretty good shot, hitting the target Sam sets up two out of three times the first time he picks up a gun. Sam looks impressed again, and Nick feels a flush of pride.

Sam teaches him how to pick locks, on doors and handcuffs, and how to get out of ropes if he's tied. That's awkward too, but Nick refuses to think too hard about why.

After three months of training, Sam says, "You know the basics of what you’re likely to encounter–everything else is experience. You've got all the fighting and weapons down except hand-to-hand. But hunters get disarmed fairly often, and I'm not taking you out if you can't defend yourself.”

Nick grimaces. "Let's try again, then."

He really concentrates this time, knowing that his deficiency at hand-to-hand is all that's keeping him from going out. He starts scoring hits on Sam more often, and when Nick finally manages to pin Sam to the ground he grins up at him. "Good! But can you do it again?"

On the day he pins Sam three times in a row Sam nods at him. "I think you're ready. I'll start looking for a hunt in the area, something easy."

Nick grins at him, then flushes, aware again of Sam underneath him.

He gets up hurriedly.

***

Sam finds what he thinks is a haunted house in Glassboro.

“According to the paper the house has had ten owners in the past twenty years. And it’s on the market again.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything, though, does it?” Nick asks him.

“Not necessarily, but it is a pretty good sign.”

“So we go up there?”

Sam nods. “Worst case it’s nothing and we’ll have wasted a trip.”

***

Two days later they’re in New Jersey.

Since they don't know how long they'll be there, Sam and Nick check into a motel, and Sam starts looking up deaths in the area. "You always need to know as much as you can before you go in. Being unprepared can get you killed."

It's Nick who finds the answer, in an online newspaper archive. "Is this her?" he asks Sam, staring at the article announcing that Maria Whitlock, 28, had been found dead, with signs of sexual assault, on July 17th 1992, and her boyfriend, Bruce Bauer, 31, was nowhere to be found. There’s a picture next to the headline. The dead woman is wearing a T-shirt and jeans, her dark eyes laughing. There’s a locket around her neck.

Sam peers at the screen over his shoulder for a moment. "Looks like. We haven't found anything else."

According to the article she was cremated. Sam groans. “Great. That means there’s some part of her still in the house.”

Nick’s stomach turns at the thought. "So what do we do now?"

“We still don’t know enough. We need to check out the history of the house.”

***

There are all kinds of stories, going back years, but nothing definite. Everyone knows someone who lived in the house, or worked for the people who lived in the house, but there are no firsthand accounts.

They go back to the motel and Sam slumps on the bed. “I hate chasing local legends.”

Nick makes a sympathetic noise and goes into the bathroom to change.

While he’s there, he catches sight of himself in the mirror. He flinches away. He never looks in the mirror much these days, since he’s afraid of seeing something evil staring back at him. This makes it difficult to shave, so he’s started growing a beard, which helps. It covers some of the scars, healed now, but still there. Like he needed any more reminders.

Nick forces himself to stare into the mirror for a long moment, seeing nothing in his own eyes but a haunted expression.

When he goes back out into the main room Sam says, “We need to talk to the owner.”

“How do we find him, though?”

Sam shrugs. “Look up the owners of the house, then do a search for his name. He might have family in the area, or be checked into a hotel. If he moved somewhere else there’ll be records.”

“What if he left the state?”

Sam sighs. “Then we’re SOL. I doubt it, though, since everyone we talked to says he moved out almost before he put the house on the market.”

***

It takes them forever to find out where the owner’s gone. They finally find out where he is after they see his relationship status on Facebook and look up his girlfriend’s address.

They pull up in front of the house. “Remember what I told you,” Sam says. “Let me do most of the talking.”

Nick nods, wiping his palms on his pants. “Do you do this a lot?”

“Impersonate people? Yeah, pretty often. This is fairly minor though.”

Nick gulps. Sam had given him a sheaf of fake IDs, everything from Park Services to FBI to Homeland Security. But for this they’re just going to be people from the local paper. He’s just as glad; he’s not as blasé as Sam about impersonating a government official.

When they knock on the door a nervous-looking guy with dirty blond hair answers. “Can I help you?”

“Alan Mitchell?” Sam asks, while Nick tries to look like a reporter.

“Yes,” he says slowly, his eyes darting from Nick to Sam and back again. He’s been spooked by something, even Nick can see that.

“We’re with the _Times._ We’re doing a piece on haunted houses in the area and the people we talked to mentioned you. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”

The guy swallows visibly and runs a hand through his hair. “D-don’t know what you’re talking about. M-my house isn’t haunted.”

“We’ve heard stories,” Sam continues. “About a woman murdered by her boyfriend? You haven’t heard anything about that?”

“How the fuck did you even find me?” the guy demands angrily. “I moved out, after–” he stops talking, all at once, like someone’s slapped a hand over his mouth.

“After…?” Sam prompts.

The man sighs. “Alright, come in. I’ll tell you about it.”

***

When they’re seated in his living room Alan starts talking in a rush, as though he doesn’t want to think about what he’s saying.

“I heard the stories when I moved in, how there was a room kept shut up that was the ghost’s. I didn’t really pay any attention to it.”

“Did you ever go in the room?” Sam asks.

Alan shrugs. “Once, when I moved in. But I live alone, so I didn’t need the space. I just kept it the way it was. Never noticed anything strange, so I figured it was just a story.”

“What changed?” Nick asks, figuring he should say something.

He shudders slightly. “I had Grace over…she’s my girlfriend…and we were fooling around. She was shoving me off, telling me to quit, but she was _laughing!_ I’d never…”

“Then what happened?”

Alan takes a deep breath. “This gonna go in the paper?”

“Using aliases and not revealing addresses,” Sam says.

“There was this…this wind. Came outta nowhere. Then something pinned me against the wall…” He scrubs a hand over his mouth. “Grace screamed and ran. I managed to get away, barely. Been living with her ever since.”

Sam nods. “Thank you Mr. Mitchell, you’ve been very helpful.”

***

“So do we know enough now?” Nick asks, on the way back to the motel.

Sam nods. “I figure the ghosts goes after rapists, since she was raped and murdered. Alan wasn’t actually doing anything, but it didn’t matter.”

“So now what?”

Sam’s expression turns grim. “Now we torch her.”

***

They find the house, set a bit apart from the rest, surrounded by trees. 

Sam picks the lock on the door, since he’s faster at it. The house isn't that far away from its nearest neighbor, and they want to get inside before someone sees.

Once they're inside, the door slams shut behind them. "Y-you're kidding, right?" Nick demands.

Sam shrugs. “Come on.”

They go down the hall to the room that’s kept shut up. As they open the door, Sam's EMF meter starts shrieking. "It's here."

He's suddenly slammed against the wall, suspended three feet from the floor. He struggles to get free, screaming at Nick, "Find the stuff!"

Nick has no clue what to look for; there could be residue clinging to anything. He goes over to the bureau in the corner and scrabbles frantically in the drawers. There’s a box in the back of the last drawer on the right. He fumbles it open. 

Sam’s making strangled noises now. Nick tries to ignore them, focus on what he’s doing. The box has jewelry in it and Nick remembers the locket in the picture. He finds it, and opens it to find two locks of hair, one dark, one blond. He throws it on the floor, pulls out the salt and pours probably way more than he needs to on top of it, then pulls open the can of gasoline, spilling half of it, flicks his lighter three times before it starts and dumps it on top of the pile.

The locket goes up in a gout of flame and Sam falls to the floor. Nick bends over him, checking his pulse. Sam coughs. “I’m…I’m OK.”

“Did we get it?”

Sam looks up at him and grins. “Yeah. We got it.”

***

After awhile they start ranging farther afield. They’re tracking a werewolf park ranger in Uwharrie National Forest when Nick has his first close call.

Visibility is bad, the light of the moon cut off by the trees. Their flashlights don’t do much to help. Nick shifts his grip on his shotgun, his eyes darting from a shadow beneath a tree to a hole under a bush.

“ _Look out!_ ” Sam yells, as something hits him from behind. Nick rolls, covering his face with his hands. Something slashes at his arms, there’s the sharp bark of a gunshot, and whatever it is goes limp on top of him.

Sam pulls it off of him and helps him up. His hands are shaking, and Nick thinks he’s gone pale, but he can’t be sure in the uncertain light. “You OK?”

“It got my arm.”

Sam runs his hands frantically over his arm for a moment before relaxing. “It’s just a scratch. Jesus, Nick, you gotta be careful! You coulda been bitten!”

Nick swallows. “Sorry.”

Sam nods, getting control of himself, peeling off his overshirt and wrapping it around Nick’s arm. He tries not to flinch at the contact. “Sit over there. We need to get rid of the body.”

Nick goes and sits down as Sam clears an area on the forest floor and piles wood on it. He looks at the werewolf for the first time. It’s human, mostly, just with long fingernails and teeth. He shudders and turns away.

***

About a month after that they’re hunting a wendigo in Minnesota. Nick’s learned to watch behind him, but it doesn’t do him much good against something that can move as fast as a wendigo can.

But this time it’s not him who gets attacked.

The wendigo jumps on Sam before he can get his flamethrower up and throws him through the air. Nick watches in horror as Sam hits an outthrust branch and it goes through him. But even as he sees it, he’s bringing his own flamethrower around in an arc.

The wendigo screams as it catches on fire, rolls on the ground, then is still.

Nick runs over to Sam. He’s got one hand on the branch, which has snapped off, but he’s smart enough not to pull it out. “Oh God, oh God, we gotta get you to a hospital!”

“No!” Sam rasps. “No hospital!”

“But–”

“Promise me!” Sam wheezes, grabbing Nick’s shirt.

He nods, blinking rapidly. “Alright, I promise.”

Sam’s grip loosens and he slumps to the ground.

***

Nick takes him to the Grand Itasca Clinic in Grand Rapids. Paper trail be damned, promise be damned, he can’t treat this on his own and he _won’t_ let Sam die.

He tells them Sam’s his brother, and that he fell out of a tree when they were camping. While Sam’s in surgery the receptionist asks for his insurance information. Nick tells her Sam doesn’t have insurance, but gives her his credit card. It’s a new one and he’s nowhere near the limit, but he still hopes it will be enough.

Then he waits for three hours while they patch him up.

“Mr. Czerwinski?” A doctor comes out of the operating room and looks at him.

Nick doesn’t respond for a moment, then remembers and stands up. “How is he?”

“He’s in recovery, but there’s no way to know if he’ll make it. There was some fairly severe internal damage.”

Nick swallows. “Can…can I see him?”

She nods. “This way.”

Nick follows her, numbly.

***

They put Sam in a room in the ICU a few hours later. He’s still unconscious.

Nick stays until midnight, then leaves to find a hotel nearby.

He spends most of his time in the hospital over the next week. Sam still hasn’t regained consciousness. The branch punctured his intestine and one of his kidneys and the wound’s infected. They have him on antibiotics, but he’s still running a fever.

Nick talks to him sometimes, about whatever crosses his mind, from the crappy food in the hospital cafeteria to the fact that Sam needs to cut his hair.

The nurses have been giving him sympathetic looks, and at one point the doctor mentions the possibility of talking to a grief counselor.

Nick throws the TV remote at him.

***

Two weeks after the wendigo Nick glares at the ceiling. “You bastard. If you brought him back just to let him die now, brought him back just so I could…” He stops, scrubs a hand over his face and then finishes, “Lucifer was right. You really are a sadist.”

The next day Nick’s dozing in a chair when he feels a hand groping for his. He starts awake. “Sam?”

Sam opens his eyes and looks at him. “N-nick?” His voice is raspy with disuse.

Nick laughs in relief. “Yeah, yeah, it’s me. God, I thought…”

Sam looks around, then attempts to glare at him. “I thought I said no hospitals!”

“Sam, you almost _died!_ You _would_ have died if I hadn’t…” Nick closes his eyes, shakes his head. “I couldn’t let you die.”

Sam sighs. “It’s OK. I get it.”

But Sam doesn’t get it, doesn’t _know._ Nick only realized it recently himself. And he doesn’t know where the fuck it came from, whether from the fact that Sam is the only one who could possibly understand what Lucifer put him through or the fact that he has no one else, but Nick’s in love with him. And it’s fucked up, but his life was fucked up long before he’d even heard of Sam Winchester or vessels or Lucifer.

So he takes the biggest risk of his life and leans forward and kisses Sam.

Sam flinches against him, but then he relaxes and his hand comes up to rest at Nick’s neck as he kisses back.

And Nick figures he still hasn’t made up for saying yes to Lucifer, but he knows what he needs to do now. And he’s got Sam to help him.


End file.
